


Beautiful Dreamer

by creativityandcoffee



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 09:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18688642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creativityandcoffee/pseuds/creativityandcoffee
Summary: Margo takes care of Eliot, and Eliot takes care of Margo.





	Beautiful Dreamer

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after the season four finale, but in an AU where Q is still alive. I just wanted to say that so my brief mention of him didn't confuse anyone. I hope you enjoy!

Ever since they got Eliot back, Margo’s been putting all of her energy into his recovery. Anything he needs, she’s got; anything he wants, she’ll probably get him; and anything he doesn’t want to do, even though it will help him, she is gonna make  _damn sure_  he does. 

After this whole ordeal, she knows what it feels like to almost lose Eliot—and she is  _not_  going to feel that way _ever_ again. 

It’s been a month or so, and Eliot’s finally starting to return to his former ways; he’s playfully teasing with Margo again, and just yesterday he laughed out loud, for the first time since coming back, at one of Quentin’s jokes. Margo hadn’t been able to hide the way that’d made her smile.

While Eliot’s physical wounds are almost fully healed (bless Fillory’s medicinal powers), the psychological toll of having been trapped in his own mind is clearly still weighing down on him. Margo desperately wants to ease  _that_  pain, to be able to cure it with some magic leaf or flower; but she knows it’s not that simple.

And she knows that, in part, because of her own struggles.

She keeps insisting that she’s fine, but lately she’s become exhausted and worn down. She doesn’t think it’s from taking care of Eliot—and besides, nothing in the world could stop her from doing that. But what  _is_ draining her day after day is a mystery. It’s not like  _she_  was possessed by the Monster, right? She doesn’t have any problems, any inner pain that she has to grapple with.

So why are there nights when she’ll suddenly wake up, panic, and have to run downstairs just to check that Eliot’s still alive, still safe and sound?

And why does tonight have to be one of those nights? 

Margo knows that she’s dreaming; she knows because right now she’s staring at Eliot’s lifeless corpse, feeling the guilt well up inside her, becoming overwhelmed by grief that threatens to tear her heart in two. But then the dream sucks her in and she knows this is  _real_ ; she knows this is what happened—that they failed, that  _she_  failed, to get Eliot back. That everything they did was for nothing. That she lost the one person she truly loved—her best friend, her  _soulmate._ She’s kneeling there on the grass, weeping next to his body, wondering how long she can go on until—

“Bambi?”

Margo jolts out of her sleep to find Eliot sitting next to her on the bed, his hand on her arm, his face full of concern. She touches her cheek and realizes that she’s been crying.

“El, did I wake you up? You should be sleeping, and—”

“ _Bambi_ ,” Eliot repeats. Margo looks up at him, her words dying in her throat. He frowns as she continues to stare at him, assuring herself of the fact that  _yes_ , he’s still here,  _yes_ , he’s okay. She reaches a hand up and Eliot takes it in his, lacing their fingers together. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” Eliot asks, his tone achingly soft.

Margo sits up, using her other hand to wipe the tears from her eyes. Eliot’s the only person she’d ever told about her nightmares, when she used to get them regularly. He used to sleep next to her on the especially bad nights, ready to wake her up if the dreams got too frightening.

That moment in their lives, and that whole first year at Brakebills, felt like it had happened a lifetime ago; and maybe it had, in a way. All of them had changed so much, recently… you couldn’t really call them the same people that they were before.

Margo eventually nods in response to Eliot’s question, not sure what to say. Eliot pulls her into a hug, just like he used to in that old lifetime, long ago. She almost starts crying again, but she manages to hold back her tears.

After a few moments, Eliot pulls back, and Margo tries her best to sound stern.

“But really, El, you should be resting. I know you’re almost fully recovered, but the last healer who looked at you said you needed another week. I’m fine, so—you should get some sleep.” 

Eliot smiles at her, almost grinning, and pats the pillow behind him. “And I will do just that, Bambi, don’t you worry. But I see a perfectly comfortable bed right here, not to mention a friend I probably shouldn’t be leaving alone right now… so, I think I’ll stay.” 

Margo briefly considers fighting him on this point, but honestly? She’s touched—and deeply comforted—by his insistence on staying.

As Margo lies back down and Eliot arranges his side of the bed, she finds herself asking him a question.

“El… do you know Beautiful Dreamer?” 

Eliot stops moving around and sits on the covers, looking down at Margo fondly. After a brief pause, Margo hears him start to sing. 

_Beautiful dreamer,_  
_Wake unto me,_  
_Starlight and dewdrops_  
_Are waiting for thee;_

_Sounds of the rude world,_  
_Heard in the day,_  
_Lull’d by the moonlight_  
_Have all passed away._

_Beautiful dreamer,  
Queen of my song… _

She dreams of the morning sun rising over green hills, painting the clouds pink and orange with its gentle rays.


End file.
